


Will You Be My Family?

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Family [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1980s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, First Dates, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: Greg Lestrade sees a boy in the park and decides to ask him out on a date.  How better to get to know the mysterious Mycroft Holmes?This is the backstory to my fic "Odd Little Family".  This can be read without first reading "Odd Little Family" (but really, why wouldn't you read such a great fic?).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to get this written and posted on Saturday, but I have been SO SICK this past week. I'm finally starting to feel a bit better, though, so I managed to get the first chapter of this written.
> 
> There is an oblique reference to HIV/AIDS and homophobia in this. I talk about this in the end notes, in which I discuss the setting in more detail (no spoilers, so read it now if you'd like, I just wanted it out of the way for people who don't care).
> 
> The second half of this chapter is mostly dialogue, please let me know if it's difficult to follow at all.
> 
> Also, this was inspired by a prompt for a spy Mycroft/PC Greg fic from someone leaving a comment on one of my other fics. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this!

Greg sat down casually on the bench and groaned with relief, stretching his arms out along the back of it.  The boy sitting next to him twitched away, even though Greg hadn’t touched him.  It looked like an instinct, moving away from contact with others.   _ Interesting, _ Greg thought, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye.  He had been watching this strange boy for the past hour, since the boy sat down and pulled a file out of his briefcase, not paying attention to the intense rugby action ten meters in front of him.  He was wearing a full three piece suit and barely looked old enough to be a university student, but he held himself as a much older man.  The boy was thoroughly confounding, making Greg want to find out more about him.  And then Greg glanced over his shoulder to see the boy looking up, his eyes firmly locked on Greg’s muscular backside, shown to its full advantage in his rugby shorts.  The look on his face was wistful and Greg had a sudden urge to stride over and kiss it off the boy’s face.  Probably best not to out himself (and a perfect stranger) in front of everyone in the park, however.  There was no way to be sure that everyone would be receptive to Greg continuing to play with them after something like that.  His mates would have his back, of course, but it was best not to risk a fight with the blokes he didn’t know as well.  A little harmless flirting, perhaps an invitation for a date, though, would be no problem.  Everyone he played with knew that Greg was friendly with everyone, so it would hardly be out of character for him to go over for a quick chat. 

“Did you enjoy the match?” Greg asked, turning to look at the boy.

The boy jumped as if he hadn’t noticed Greg and slammed his folder closed, an affectation that might have convinced most people, but didn’t food Greg for a moment: the boy had been  _ very _ aware that Greg was there and even more aware that Greg’s arm was along the back of the bench, mere inches away from touching that sumptuous suit.  “I beg your pardon?” he asked in a voice that was a bit deeper and more in-control than Greg had anticipated.  He might be young, but he was awfully sure of himself.   _ Let’s see if I can change that. _

Greg gave him a broad, friendly smile.  Up close, this boy was more adorable than he he seemed from a distance, the sunlight giving his dark hair an auburn tint and making his eyes appear especially blue.  “The rugby.  Weren’t you watching?”  He nodded to the group of boys milling around the expanse of grass in front of the bench.

The boy looked as if the boys had appeared out of thin air.  “Obviously, I wasn’t,” he said sounding mildly annoyed.

_ Liar _ .  “Is that obvious?  Why wouldn’t you enjoy watching us?”

The briefest flicker of panic passed through the boy’s eyes before he controlled it and forced himself to look disinterested.  “It’s rugby,” he said with a shrug.   _ Ah, one of those too-serious-for-sport people.  Could be fun _

“I’m Greg Lestrade,” Greg said, holding his hand out to shake.

The boy froze, his eyes locked on Greg’s hand.  “What?” he asked, sounding bewildered.  He clearly wasn’t accustomed to random interactions proceeding to this point and Greg was enjoying figuring out how to throw off the balance of power in the conversation far too much to let it end.

“My name.  It’s Greg Lestrade.  If you put your hand in mine, I’ll shake it up and down.  It’s a social convention I thought we might try.”  He tried a friendly, teasing smile, hoping that his joke would land.

“Are you teasing me?” the boy asked with narrowed eyes, studying Greg’s face.   _ Not into jokes, then. _

Greg chuckled, leaving his hand extended between them.  “Just bit of good-natured ribbing.  I’m trying to get you to lighten up a bit.”

“‘Lighten up’?  What on Earth does that entail?”  The thought seemed horrifying to the boy, who looked so tightly-wound he might snap at any moment.

“Well the first step would be going to dinner with me.”

There was a definite look of alarm now.  Greg could almost see the boy’s brain start racing, examining everything about the situation for clues about Greg’s intentions.  Greg shifted in his seat, letting his knee gently bump into the boy’s knee and tried his best to look flirtatious but unthreatening.  The boy still looked unsure, so Greg decided to go for straightforward.

“As in, go on a date with me,” he said clearly, but low enough that no one else would hear.

“That would be inappropriate,” the boy said, tensing up and looking around them for anyone who might overhear.  Greg was sure that the boy’s breath had sped up slightly at the suggestion of a date and he could practically hear the boy’s pounding heart, but he started to worry that the boy might say no.

“Do you care about that?”  

“I have a career to consider.”  The boy looked down at the folder in his hands.

“A career?”  Greg tried his best to sound surprised.  “You don’t look old enough to be out of uni!”

“I am certain I do not,” the boy said with a shrug and a small, smug smile.  “I’m twenty.  I finished university two years ago.”

“Oh, so you’re a genius as well as gorgeous?”  Greg recognized a chink in the boy’s social armor, flattering his intelligence.  It helped that Greg had always had a soft spot for highly intelligent boys.

Color rushed into the boy’s cheeks so fast that Greg was sure it would give him a head rush.  “What did you just call me?”

“You must be a genius, to finish uni so early.  I’m twenty-three and I only just finished.  Since I’m not exceptionally dull, it follows that you’re exceptionally bright.”

More adorable blushing and avoiding eye contact now.   _ Perfect. _  “I have certain aptitudes.”  

“Listen, can you at least tell me your name?” Greg asked suddenly.  “I’m driving myself mad trying to guess what it could be.  Nothing I can think of fits you.”

“Mycroft.  Mycroft Holmes,” the boy said, finally reaching out and shaking Greg’s hand.

His warm was soft and a bit clammy, but the grip was firm enough that Greg could tell it had quite some strength behind it.

“So, Mycroft.  What’s stopping you from taking me up on my offer?  Mates eat dinner together all the time.”

“You find it believable that you and I would be sharing a meal?”

_ He’s definitely interested. _  “Of course.  More believable than us dating, right?”

“But we -- we would be?”  He was floundering, clearly out of his depth, exactly where Greg wanted him.

“Oh, yes.  If you’ll have me.”

“But why?”

Greg couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping.   _ Who wouldn’t be interested in you? _  “Mycroft, it’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday and you’re in a park, wearing a three piece suit, working.”

“And…?”

“And I’d very much like to see what’s underneath that suit.”

Mycroft’s face was so red that Greg thought he might faint.  “You say these things to strangers?  What if you said it to the wrong person?”   _ So that’s what he’s afraid of.  Doesn’t want trouble from  a misunderstanding of interest.  Smart, but he needs to learn to read people better. _

“What do you mean?”  Greg played dumb, hoping Mycroft wouldn’t realize how well Greg could tell what he was thinking.  It was more interesting when Mycroft’s guard was down, Greg didn’t want him reinforcing the wall he had that hid his thoughts.

“Not everyone would be forgiving if you propositioned them in public.”

“Well, for one thing I saw the way you were watching me play and I was sure you’d be receptive to my offer.  For another, I’m hardly afraid of being assaulted.”  A bit of bravado wouldn’t be bad, and it gave Mycroft a chance to see Greg’s confidence, something he had been told was his most attractive quality.

“And why is that?”

“Only an idiot would assault a copper.”

“Ah, of course,” Mycroft said quietly, studying Greg’s face.  “PC, right?”

“Obviously,” Greg said with a warm smile.   _ There you go, think about me.  And for the love of all that’s holy, get my joke. _

Mycroft hesitated for a moment and then smiled.   _ Finally, progress. _

“So, dinner?” he asked, taking advantage of Mycroft’s show of pleasure at the conversation.

Mycroft held something small and white out to Greg.  “My card, with my home phone number.  I’m not saying yes, but I will allow you an opportunity to convince me.”

 

***

 

“Hello, Gregory.”  Mycroft’s voice was cool and collected as he answered the phone.  He had obviously prepared himself for the phone call, which made Greg smile.

“A pet name, already?  My name is Greg.”  Greg stretched out on his bed, staring up at a crack in the ceiling.  He twirled the cord of the phone in his free hand, trying to resist the urge to reach for a cigarette; he had recently quit again, but he was sure it wouldn’t last very long, like every attempt he made to kick the habit.

“I prefer Gregory.”   _ Was that a hint of amusement? _

“Then Gregory, it is.  I want you to have whatever you want, Mycroft.”   _ There, that should definitely make him smile. _

“I think you want my desires to coincide with your own.”  The voice was cold, but there was a hint of teasing in it, like he was trying not to show his hand.   _ Why is he making this so difficult? _

“Well they do, don’t they?”

“How are you so self-assured?”   _ Legitimate curiosity, not annoyance.  Good. _

“How are you not?  You devastating in that suit.  What do you do, anyway, where you dress like that?”

“It’s hardly appropriate to approach a stranger and ask him for a date,” Mycroft deflected, trying to change the subject.

Greg huffed out a short laugh.  “Mycroft, it’s 1986, not 1886.  Fewer people care than you think.”

“Not in my industry.”  He sighed and Greg could practically see the sadness in his eyes.

“And what is that, exactly?  You never answered my question.”

“I...I am a field agent for a minor government official.”

“You’re a spy?”

“A field agent.”

“You’re James Bond.”

“Don’t be absurd.”   
“You’re a bloody spy?”

“No, I… Well, that’s not wholly inaccurate.”  _  Christ.  Just who did I ask out on a date? _

“You’re probably lying.”

“I could be.  But why would I?  I am not the one who is trying to be impressive.”  There was a definite smile in Mycroft’s voice at this.   _ He’s telling the truth and he’s happy that I’m impressed by it.  Keep the flattery going, check. _

“I knew that suit was hiding something interesting.”

“Are you really interested in finding out what’s underneath my suit?”

“Of course I am.  Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Well, so far there had been a significant lack of interest in anything under my suit from everyone else in the world.”

“Ah.  Well, you just hadn’t met me yet.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Mycroft asked suddenly, sounding curious.

Greg knew what Mycroft was asking, but he decided to play innocent.  “Spoken on the telephone?  Yes, I have.”

“No, asked a stranger out on a date.”

“I’ve never approached a random bloke in a park, no.  People I had just met, sure.”

“Why me?”

“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said you’re gorgeous.”

“There’s more.”

“Something about your face when you looked at me.  It made me sad.  Longing, maybe?  Like you thought you could never deserve to be happy.”

“Perhaps I just assumed you were straight or well out of my league.”

“You thinking that would make me sad, as it is very untrue.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“Oh.”  There was silence for a moment, while Greg waited for Mycroft to say whatever it was he was thinking.

“Mycroft?”

“Yes?”

“Everything okay?”

“This is odd.”

“What is?”

“Flirting.  That is what you’re doing, yes?”   _ God, could he be any more adorable? _

“Yes, I’m flirting.  You’re a very attractive bloke and I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You don’t know anything about me that might imply we would be compatible in any way.”

“I know I’m physically attracted to you and I know that you’re unsure of how to react to my attraction.  You’re a genius, which I also find incredibly attractive.  Everything I know tells me that I would like to know more about you and find out if we’re compatible.  That’s what dating is.”

“I can’t be seen dating a man.  If the wrong person became aware of it, my career could be ended.”  Greg could hear the sadness again and wished he and Mycroft were in the same room, so he could take hold of him and kiss away all his pain.  

He cast around mentally for something to say and settled on commiseration.  “Ah, your boss is one of those?”

“No, she’s well aware of my proclivities, but others in the organization might make waves that she couldn’t ignore.”

“Like I said, mates have dinner together all the time.  I won’t take you anywhere especially romantic, if that’s what you want.”

“Well that sounds like a lovely date,” Mycroft said drily, making Greg laugh.

“Fine, then, I’ll take you to the most romantic place I know and shag you on the table.”

“ _...What? _ ”  Mycroft’s voice was barely more than a squeak, which was incredibly endearing.

“Just a joke, Mycroft.”

“Do you do that?”

“Joke?  Most people do.”

“No.  Sex in public.  I’m aware that some men frequent establishments where--”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Greg cut him off, not wanting to know how Mycroft was planning to finish that sentence.   _ Is that what he thinks of me?  I need to fix that immediately. _  “I don’t go in for that club scene.  I’d much rather have a quiet dinner.  And at any rate, I’ve never… Well, that is to say.  I’m...I haven’t--”

“Gregory, are you confessing your virginity to me?”  There was a sense of wonder in Mycroft’s voice that should have been funny, but was instead incredibly sexy.

“Yes.  You hear so many things these days, I don’t want to risk anything.  And I also have career aspirations, you know.”

“So you haven’t been in a relationship?”

“I’ve dated, but nothing serious, no.  Is that a turn off for you?”

“Quite the opposite.  I appreciate your concern for your safety.”

“Good.”

There was a pause and then another sigh from Mycroft.  “I work long hours, Gregory.  I’m not sure I’ll have time for dating.”

“I work long hours, too, Mycroft.  I’ll work longer ones when I become a detective.  Irregular, too.”

“Then how will we date?”

“That’s putting the cart a bit before the horse, isn’t it?  Ten minutes ago you were saying that there’s no way to know if we’re compatible.  At this point it seems like you’re trying to come up with reasons not to date me.  Was I wrong about your interest?”  Greg knew he wasn’t wrong, but he wanted to remind Mycroft of the interest he had seen at the park.

“No, you weren’t wrong.  I just like to anticipate all problems in advance.”

Greg chuckled.  “Well, stop.  Let’s just enjoy the dating.  Let me take you out.  If you have a terrible time, you never have to see me again.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”  He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice and mentally kicked himself.   _ Don’t sound too eager, idiot. _

“Yes, Gregory.  I will go to dinner with you.”

“That’s great, Mycroft!”   _ Oh, yeah.  That was really cool.  Do try to actually make the date without sounding like a schoolgirl with a crush, Lestrade. _  “Friday at 7:00?”

“I will mark it on my calendar.”

“I’m excited.”

“I am also feeling excitement.”

“Good.”

“Gregory?”

“Yes?”

“Can we stay on the phone for a while?  This is nice.”

Greg smiled, closing his eyes with a happy sigh.  “Anything you want, Mycroft.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for this, but it's going off the rails a bit. I'm just going to sit back and enjoy the ride, I hope you all will too. :-)

Greg looked up from the television with a smile as Karen, his pretty, blonde flatmate plopped down on the couch next to him.

“I have some news for you,” she said, leaning against him as he shifted to put his arm around her.  They had been friends for as long as he could remember and she was was his only family, like the sister he never had.

“News?”

“You know Liz is working in the records office now?”  Greg nodded.  Liz was Karen’s current girlfriend, she worked with Greg, who had introduced them.  “Someone did a background check on you.”

“What?” Greg asked, sitting up.   _ Who on earth could be…oh. _

“That funny-named boy isn’t very trusting, huh?” she asked with a teasing smile on her face.

Greg paused.  He hadn’t told her that Mycroft was apparently some kind of spy and he wasn’t sure he should.  He also wasn’t sure how he felt about having a background check done for a date.  “I suppose he’s just being cautious.”

The phone rang and Karen gave Greg a significant look.  “Your nightly call?” she asked.

Greg blushed.  He and Mycroft had been talking on the phone for hours every night, about every conceivable topic.  Never before had talking to someone come so easy, not even with Karen.  At first he had been afraid that they would run out of things to talk about on their date, but now, the day before they were scheduled to have dinner, Greg was sure he could talk to Mycroft until the end of time and never get bored.

“Hello, love,” Greg answered the phone.  There was a moment of hesitation and Greg thought he might have overstepped with the use of the endearment, but when Mycroft spoke, he could hear the pleasure in the normally cool voice.

“You’re very sweet,” Mycroft murmured.  “I have some bad news.”   
“Oh?”

“I have to leave the country tomorrow morning and I’m not sure how long I’ll be away.”

“You need to reschedule our date?” Greg asked, his heart sinking.

“I’m afraid so.  You have my apologies, as soon as I am back in the country I will--”

“Why don’t you come over to my flat tonight?  It’s not quite dinner, but we can at least see each other.”

Karen caught Greg’s eye made a gesture showing that she would make herself scarce.  And he smiled gratefully.

“I don’t know, Gregory.  Dinner is one thing, but…”

“I’m not suggesting you come over for an orgy, Mycroft.  Just come over, have a glass of wine, and let me see you in person.  Please?”   
“Very well.  I can be there in twenty minutes.”

Greg grinned.  He had a feeling that Mycroft already knew the address.  “I can’t wait.”

  
***

 

Exactly twenty minutes later, Greg jumped up to answer the door with a smile.  He let his eyes roam all over Mycroft, feeling much happier to see him than he anticipated.  “I’m so happy you’re here,” he said quietly, ushering Mycroft into the living room.

“Me too,” Mycroft said, looking around.

They sat down on the couch angled toward each other, their knees barely touching.  Greg poured some wine for them and handed Mycroft a glass, suddenly feeling very nervous.

Before he could stop himself, Greg blurted out, “You did a background check on me?”

Mycroft flushed bright red.  “That wasn’t me.  It -- it was my boss.”

Greg froze.  “You told your boss about me?”

“Katharine and I are very close.  She’s like a second mother to me,” Mycroft mumbled, avoiding Greg’s eyes.

Greg reached out and gently lifted Mycroft’s chin so they locked eyes and smiled.  “That’s fine.  You’re here, so I assume she approves.”

Mycroft slumped with relief.  “Every time I say something ridiculous, you say it’s fine.”

Greg chuckled.  “You’re not as ridiculous as you think you are.”

Mycroft’s breath caught and he tilted his head slightly as Greg realized how close they were to each other.  He licked his lips and then leaned in slowly, offering Mycroft ample time to pull away.  Mycroft didn’t move and Greg pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.

He was about to pull back when Mycroft’s arms wrapped around his middle and held on tightly.  Greg hummed happily and stroked Mycroft’s cheek, tilting his head for better access and deepening the kiss, catching Mycroft’s bottom lip in his teeth and nibbling gently.  Mycroft opened his mouth in a silent gasp and Greg took the opportunity to run his tongue over Mycroft’s teeth before pulling away.

“Was that okay?” Mycroft asked, looking anxious.

Greg smiled, kissing him again.  “That was amazing.  Was that your first kiss?”

Mycroft nodded, a terrified look on his face.  “A bit embarrassing to admit, at my age.”

“Not embarrassing.  Sexy.”  Greg leaned in for another long kiss.

After a moment, Mycroft pulled back, rubbing his neck.  He studied Greg for a moment and then pushed him so he was sitting normally on the couch before swinging his leg over Greg so that he was sitting on Greg’s lap, straddling him.

Greg, feeling very pleased with a lapful of Mycroft, pulled him back down for another kiss.

After several long, blissful minutes, Greg pulled back, panting slightly.  “We, um.  We should stop for a bit.”

Mycroft frowned, opening his mouth to ask why.  Greg shifted slightly, trying to make his enthusiasm for Mycroft less obvious so he didn’t make him uncomfortable and Mycroft froze.   _ Ooops _ . 

“Oh,” Mycroft breathed, blushing furiously.

“I’m sorry, love, I just…  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you are so bloody sexy.  If you want to stop we--” Greg’s bumbling attempt at an explanation was cut off by Mycroft capturing Greg’s lips in a kiss full of desperate need and grinding his own erection into Greg’s stomach.

Greg groaned and bucked up running his hands down Mycroft’s side and grabbing hold of his small, firm arse.  “Unless you want me to have an embarrassing situation, we really should take a break,” he gasped out as Mycroft rotated his hips slowly.

“I haven’t see your bedroom yet,” Mycroft responded, the innocent look on his face ruined by the breathless want in his voice.

Without a word, Greg stood up, taking Mycroft with him, and carrying him into the bedroom, dropping back onto his bed with Mycroft still on top of him.  Mycroft pushed him back so he was lying down with Mycroft straddling his middle.

Mycroft bent down and kissed Greg softly and slowly as he ground their hips together in slow circles, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through Greg.

“I thought you were a virgin,” Greg gasped out, pulling away to take a breath.

Mycroft smiled wickedly.  “I’m a fast learner and I do know what feels good to me.”

Greg let out a rather embarrassing noise that wasn’t quite a word and stared up at him in awe.   _ How does he always end up with the upper hand? _

“Is this okay?” Mycroft asked in a low voice.  He shifted back so he was sitting on Greg’s thighs, ran his hands up the front of Greg’s trousers, causing Greg to whine and buck his hips, and started toying with Greg’s zip.

“Whatever you want,” Greg said, gripping the bed tightly to stop himself from flipping Mycroft over and fucking him into the mattress.

Mycroft studied Greg’s face for a moment and then pulled his hand away with a small smile.  “Do you want to stop?”

“Oh, you bloody tease,” Greg groaned, pulling him down for a kiss.

Mycroft laughed against Greg’s lips.  “Am I?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Holmes.  You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re -- ohh…” his naive act was interrupted by Greg rolling him over and swapping their positions, one hand gripping Mycroft’s hair and pulling it back to allow Greg access to the underside of his jaw while Greg’s other hand palmed Mycroft’s erection through his trousers.

Greg started to unbutton Mycroft’s trousers, then stopped himself.  “Do you want to stop?  I don’t want to push you.”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” Mycroft said, pulling Greg’s face to him.

 

***

 

Mycroft snuggled into Greg’s shoulder and Greg wrapped his arm around Mycroft, holding him tightly.  “You’re amazing,” Greg said sleepily, planting a kiss on Mycroft’s hair.

“You’re sweet,” Mycroft responded, not sounding the least bit tired.  There was a moment of silence and then Mycroft spoke again, startling Greg.  “She’s quite pretty.”   
Greg looked down to see Mycroft looking over him to the pictures on the wall of Greg’s friends, including several pictures of Karen.

“She is,” Greg agreed, unsure how he was supposed to respond.

“Why have you never dated her?”  Greg snorted and Mycroft pulled away from him slightly, frowning.  “I know you’re bisexual.  You have to have noticed her.”

“My bisexuality and whether I’ve noticed her or not are irrelevant,” Greg said evenly, wondering what he had done to make Mycroft feel insecure.  Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and Greg had to stifle his laugh as he pulled Mycroft back down, tightening his arm around the thin shoulders.  “She’s a lesbian, Mycroft.  And even if she weren’t, I’m much more attracted to you than to her.  I want to be with you.  Anyway, she’s basically my sister.  She’s my only family, so I could never want to date her.”

“What about your parents?” Mycroft asked, relaxing into Greg’s arms.

“Don’t have any.  They died four years ago.  We weren’t close anyway.  They had...issues.”  Greg knew that Mycroft would be able to see through his evasiveness, but it was still easier somehow than saying it himself.

“Drug addicts?” Mycroft asked and then flinched, like he realized that he shouldn’t have said it.

Greg felt a surge of affection for him.  “I’m glad you can read my mind.  It stops me from having to say unhappy things.”

“I don’t read your mind, Gregory.”

“I know, but it seems like you do.  And I like it.  What about you?”

“I like you, too.”

“That’s not what I was asking and you know it,” Greg said, but smiled.

“I have a mother, a father, and an incredibly annoying little brother.  He’s thirteen.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sherlock.”

“I bet he worships you.”

Mycroft chuckled.  “Something like that.  If you think I can read your mind, wait until you meet him.”

“I can’t wait.  I’d love to meet your family.”

“Gregory?”   
“Yes, love?”

“Do you think we’re going a little fast?”

Greg thought for a moment, tracing circles on Mycroft’s bare arm with his finger.  “I think we’re perfect.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope everyone enjoys reading it!

“Greetings from Niagara Falls, Ontario!” The postcard proclaimed in large letters across the front, accompanied by a picture of the waterfalls.  Greg flipped the card over and smiled.

“I’m coming home next week.  --M”

It had been two miserable months since Greg had seen Mycroft.  They had spoken on the phone a few times, but their conversations had been brief and unsatisfying, leaving Greg with a nagging feeling that something was wrong.  But now that he knew Mycroft was coming home, everything seemed better.

The next week, Greg was at his flat with Karen, her girlfriend, and a few of the boys from work when there was a knock on the door.

He stumbled to the door, a bit tipsy, and opened it, freezing when he saw Mycroft standing there.

“Mycroft!” he shouted, almost lunging forward for a kiss, but restraining himself; there were other people here and he didn’t want to embarrass Mycroft.

Mycroft studied Greg’s face for a moment, before leaning around him to look at the group of people in Greg’s living room.  “Do you want me to go?  I should go,” he said, starting to turn.

“No, no.  Please don’t,” Greg said, reaching out for Mycroft and then stopping himself.  “Please stay, Mycroft.  I missed you.”

“You’re drunk, Gregory.”  Mycroft’s voice was cold and Greg kicked himself.

“No, I just had a couple pints at the pub.  I didn’t know you would be back tonight.  Please come in.”  Greg tried to keep the whining note from his voice, but he wasn’t entirely successful.

Mycroft nodded and stepped into the flat, a strained smile on his face.   _ Well, he was right: extremely socially awkward, _ Greg thought, watching him nod hello to the people in the room.

When introductions were over and Mycroft was offered a drink, Greg stood next to him awkwardly, his hands curled into tight fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Mycroft.

“Are you going to kiss him, then, Greggy?” Karen asked loudly, making Greg glare at her.

He turned and smiled apologetically at Mycroft, who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.  “I -- I wouldn’t want to -- I don’t…” he trailed off, feeling like his heart was going to explode any moment from the force of its pounding.  “Mycroft, may I speak to you privately?”

Mycroft nodded and followed Greg into his bedroom.  “I understand,” Mycroft said quietly as Greg shut the door.  “If I were dating me, I also wouldn’t--” he was cut off by Greg pushing him up against the door with his whole body and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Greg murmured, pulling away only far enough to speak.  “We never talked about whether we’re out as a couple.  I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  So don’t think it has anything to do with you being  _ you. _ ”

Mycroft laughed quietly, tilting Greg’s head and kissing down his jaw to his neck.  “How can you read my mind?”

Greg moaned, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Mycroft’s trousers and tugging.  “Your ridiculous insecurities are easy to read.  Now get these off before I rip them.”

 

***

 

Greg checked his reflection one last time in the car mirror, making sure his hair was lying just the way he wanted it.  “Are you sure they’re not going to be disappointed?” he asked, nervously straightening his tie for the fiftieth time since Mycroft perfectly tied it for him.

Mycroft smiled and reached out to take Greg’s hands in his own, stilling them.  “They are going to love you.”

“I’ve never met a bloke’s parents before,” Greg told him.

“That much is obvious, Sweets.”

Greg smiled.   _ Sweets. _  It was a silly nickname that Mycroft had started calling him in the four months since they had started dating.  If it had been anyone else, he would have hated it; but hearing the endearment from Mycroft’s usually cold voice made his heart swell with love.  In this situation, it calmed Greg, making him feel better about the situation.

“We should go in,” Mycroft said quietly, squeezing Greg’s hands.  “They will love you.  Mummy already does and Sherlock promised not to reveal your deepest secrets tonight.”

Greg chuckled, though he was secretly grateful for the promise: he knew what Mycroft could tell just by looking at someone, he didn’t even want to think of what his little brother would be able to tell.

When Mycroft opened the door and let them into the house, Greg was surprised by how homey it seemed.  While he knew that Mycroft had two loving parents, but Mycroft being in a home that was full of warmth seemed wrong, given how cold Mycroft could be.  He felt a bit guilty thinking that, considering that he knew exactly how warm Mycroft could be, but he knew that he was, perhaps, the only person in the world who knew the warmth that Mycroft kept hidden inside.

“Myc!” a cheerful voice shouted and Mummy Holmes bustled out to meet them, a broad smile on her face.  “Let me see you in the light, dear.  I’m not sure where you’re finding your meals, but you need to find them a bit more frequently, going by the look of you.  And where is your young man?  Ah, Greg!  How lovely to meet you.”  She turned to smile at Greg after her inspection of Mycroft was completed.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Holmes,” Greg said politely, unsure of how to react to such an outpouring of concern and friendliness: his own mother had been anything but friendly and concerned about him, so it was a novel experience.

“Oh, call me Mummy.  I insist.  Come, Father and Sherlock are  _ so _ excited to meet you.”

Mycroft snorted derisively and Greg squeezed his hand, following them into the living room.  Sitting on the couch was an older man, obviously Mycroft’s father, reading a book.  He looked up as they entered, smiled, nodded, and went back to his reading.  Next to him on the floor, surrounded by books and what appeared to be small mountains of dead insects, was a boy with a mop of dark, curly hair.  He looked up, his eyes roaming over Greg, no doubt taking in every detail, no matter how miniscule.

“A police constable, Mycroft?  Boring,” Sherlock said, returning his attention to his insects.

“Oh, Sherlock,” Mummy said, smiling indulgently.  “You must forgive him, he’s in the middle of an experiment.”

“I understand,” Greg said with a smile.  “It’s quite late.  Mycroft gets the same way when it’s past his bedtime.”

“I  _ do not _ have a bedtime,” Sherlock snarled, glaring at Greg.  “I’m not a child.”

“Of course not, dear,” Mummy said with a pacifying pat on Sherlock’s shoulder.  “It’s a shame you boys couldn’t come for dinner, it is rather late.”

“I had work to do, Mummy,” Mycroft explained in an exasperated voice and Greg grinned: this was the sort of family dynamic that he had always wanted and never had.

“Unfortunately my schedule doesn’t always allow for dinners, Mrs. Holmes,” Greg added.  He was working nearly as many hours as Mycroft did, chasing a promotion.   
“Mummy, dear,” she responded distractedly, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder at some notes he was scribbling.  She pointed at something and muttered to him.  He frowned, studied his notes for a moment, and then nodded at her, crossing something out and making a change.  Greg was in awe: was Mummy Holmes as smart as her boys were?  It didn’t seem possible that this friendly, maternal woman was capable of the same intelligence as Mycroft, who was so cold and withdrawn most of the time.  Was Mycroft capable of the same kind of warmth?

Greg realized that Mycroft was watching him and forced a smile; it wouldn’t do for Mycroft to know what Greg was thinking, it would undoubtedly make him uncomfortable and that was the last thing he wanted.

There was a knock at the door and Mummy looked up and smiled.  “That must be Katharine!”

“Katharine?” Greg asked Mycroft, feeling his stomach drop.

Mycroft nodded, blushing.  “She’s an old friend of Mummy’s.  I wasn’t aware that she had been invited until this afternoon.”

“And this is  _ Katharine _ , your boss?” Greg asked, starting to panic.  He had been prepared to meet Mycroft’s parents and brother, but meeting his boss, the person he respected most in all the world, was a bit overwhelming.

Mycroft squeezed his hand, of course knowing exactly what Greg was thinking.  “She’s going to love you, Sweets.”

Mummy returned with a tall, middle-aged woman who swept into the room with complete self-assurance.  She had black, piercing eyes and gray hair that was secured in a tight bun at the back of her head.  With one look, Greg knew that she, like Mycroft and Sherlock, knew absolutely everything there was to know about him.

A young girl bounced in the room after her, not giving Greg a second glance, and dropped down next to Sherlock, looking at the books that were spread around him.  She started chattering to him and he mostly ignored her, looking a bit like a ruffled cat.

“Good evening, Mycroft,” Katharine said warmly, her face utterly transforming as she smiled at Greg and Mycroft.

“Good evening, Katharine.  May I introduce Greg, my--my--” Mycroft glanced at Greg, who smiled and nodded, “my boyfriend.  Greg, this is Katharine, my employer, and her daughter, Anthea.”

Greg took Katharine’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly, feeling like he should be bowing and kissing it.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice the quiver in his voice.

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite,” she said with a smile.   _ Of course she noticed. _  “Actually, I was hoping I might be able to speak with you privately.”  She glanced at Mummy, who nodded and smiled.

“Of--of course, Mrs…” he realized that no one had given him a last name for her, and faltered.  “Erm, Katharine.”

“You can go into the kitchen,” Mummy said cheerfully and Katharine thanked her before sweeping out of the room as magisterially as she had entered, Greg trailing along in her wake after shooting a helpless glance at Mycroft, who shrugged at him.

When they were seated in the kitchen, Katharine fixed Greg with a piercing stare.  “So.  You are the one who has been distracting my best agent.”

“I…”  Greg started to defend himself, but he didn’t know what to say, so he just trailed off lamely.

“I am glad he has found someone.  I’ve known many Holmes geniuses over the years and they don’t fare well on their own.  Mycroft was starting to concern me, but since you’ve entered the picture, I’ve seen some positive changes in him.”

Greg made a noncommittal noise and nodded, unsure if he was expected to respond in some way.   _ Why is she telling me this? _

“I am telling you this,”  _ bloody mind readers, _ “so that you are aware of the commitment you are entering by becoming involved with Mycroft Holmes.  I understand you haven’t discussed the depth of your attachment yet, which is understandable at this early point, but such a conversation, and its conclusion, is inevitable given your level of emotional involvement in this venture.”

Greg’s head was spinning.   _ What exactly is she saying? _ _ Was that English? _

Katharine smiled warmly again and leaned forward, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand.  “Mycroft cares deeply for you.  If you choose to be with him, you need to be willing to devote yourself fully to him.”

Greg smiled gratefully for the translation.  “I care for Mycroft, too.  He’s very important to me.”

She nodded approvingly.  “That is all I wanted to know.”

 

***

 

Later, in the car on the way back to Greg’s flat, Greg reached over and squeezed Mycroft’s hand with a smile.  “Your boss really is like a second mother, isn’t she?”

Mycroft blushed and nodded.  “I suppose she threatened you if you hurt me, or some such nonsense?”

Greg chuckled.  “No, I think she’s just worried about you getting hurt.  Which I understand, because I wouldn’t want you getting hurt either.”

“Well, you and Katharine have something in common, then.”

“We have more in common than just that,” Greg said casually.

“Oh?”

“Yes.  We both love you.”

Greg’s heart was pounding in his ears in the silence that followed: he had been sure that Mycroft felt the same way, but now that he had said it, he was suddenly filled with doubt.

After an eternity, Mycroft cleared his throat.  “I love you, too, Gregory.  How could I not?”

Greg chuckled with relief and pressed Mycroft’s hand to his lips, feeling like he could cry from happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard for me to write. I hope everyone enjoys it, that would make it worth the struggle. :-)

They had been dating for nine months when Greg finally saw where Mycroft lived.  They had spent nearly every night together while Mycroft was between trips out of the country, but always at Greg’s flat.  Mycroft was gone for a week or two at a time and when he returned they had several days of being holed up in Greg’s bedroom and spending as much time talking and exploring each other as possible before one of them had to leave for work.  The situation was generally unsatisfying to Greg but he didn’t want to complain, afraid that Mycroft would think he was unhappy with the relationship.

One night, Greg received a phone call just before midnight after not hearing from Mycroft for five long days.  “Mycroft?” he asked hopefully as he answered.

“Good evening, Sweets.  I really missed you this trip.  It was a difficult situation.”  Mycroft sounded tired and Greg wished he could hold him.

“When will you be back?”

“I am back.  I arrived home twenty minutes ago.”  

Greg frowned.  He was happy that Mycroft had arrived home safely, but he usually went straight to Greg’s flat when he came home.  Occasionally he had some paperwork or a debriefing with Katharine that prevented him from going straight to Greg’s flat. “Oh.  Do you have more work to do at the office?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Actually, I was hoping you would be able to come to my home tonight.  I have a meeting with Katharine early tomorrow morning at the house, so it would save me from having to leave your flat.”

“I’d love to see your house,” Greg said, hoping he didn’t sound as eager as he felt.

Mycroft chuckled.   _ Damn. _

It didn’t take long for Greg to make his way to Mycroft’s house, which was fairly close to Greg’s flat, but in a much nicer neighborhood.

He double-checked the address as he stood before a very large, stately house.  He knew that Mycroft was well off, that much was obvious, but seeing the house he lived in, practically a  _ palace _ , was different than knowing something.  He rang the bell hesitantly, hoping that he hadn’t made some terrible mistake in writing the address down that would lead to him being beaten by security thugs.

After a tense moment, Mycroft answered the door looking exhausted but happy to see Greg.  He pulled Greg into a tight hug and Greg felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the way it always did when Mycroft came home safely from a work trip.

“Come in, Sweets,” Mycroft said, leading him inside.

If Greg thought the outside was impressive, the inside bowled him over.  It looked like it was from a movie, it was so richly dressed.  He was starting to feel very intimidated, in his boyfriend’s posh house in his ratty jeans, but he didn’t say anything: if Mycroft didn’t see anything wrong with him being there, he shouldn’t either.

They made their way up the stairs to the largest bedroom Greg had ever seen.  This room was different than the rest of the house, however, more homey and comfortable.  There was a fire roaring in the fireplace, flanked by two comfortable chairs; a desk sat off to one side, crowded with papers, and Greg could imagine Mycroft sitting down there to do his paperwork; a large bed dominated one wall, neatly made and turned down.

“Why on Earth would you ever stay at my flat when you could come home to this?” Greg asked, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

Mycroft smiled.  “Your flat has you in it, Gregory.”

Greg reached out and caressed Mycroft’s cheek, studying his face.  He looked particularly haggard, dark circles under his eyes and a new thinness to his face.  “Right.  Where’s the kitchen in this place?  I assume there’s food in it?”

Mycroft gave Greg directions and returned wearily to his desk.  Greg found the kitchen, which was well-stocked and immaculate.  He made two sandwiches and took them upstairs, looking into the rooms he passed on the way.

When he made it back to Mycroft’s room, he chuckled when he saw that Mycroft had fallen asleep on his desk, knocking some of the papers onto the floor.  Greg scooped Mycroft up and carried him to the bed, taking off his shoes, shirt, and trousers.  Mycroft muttered and rolled over and Greg kissed him gently on the forehead, pulling the blankets up to his chin.  He went back over to the desk and picked up the papers, straightening them.  He tried not to read anything on the papers, sure that they contained confidential information, but he couldn’t help but notice “killed in the line of duty” on one of them and felt a chill go down his spine; he knew that Mycroft’s work could be dangerous, but perhaps he didn’t know exactly how much danger he was in when he went away.

 

***

 

The next morning Greg awoke to Mycroft snuggling up to his back, a long arm snaking around his middle and pulling him in tightly.  “Good morning, love,” he said quietly, enjoying the moment and trying to forget his worry about Mycroft’s safety.

“Good morning, Sweets,” Mycroft responded, his face muffled by the back of Greg’s neck.

“No work for me today,” Greg told him quietly.

“Lovely.  I myself am free for the day, after my morning meeting with Katharine.”  He stretched and looked at the clock on the end table.  “Speaking of which, we should get dressed.”

“I didn’t think to bring any clothes,” Greg said with a groan, realizing that in his eagerness he forgot something very important.

“Well, I have a spare toothbrush and there are some old clothes that belonged to my father that should fit you.”  He smiled at the look on Greg’s face.  “I think you’ll find them acceptable.  When my parents lived here, my father had an obsession with the greaser aesthetic.”

Greg tried to imagine the pleasant, middle-aged man he had met dressing like a greaser and failed.  With interest, he followed Mycroft into another bedroom and picked out some clothing to wear with interest.

When Greg was dressed, he studied himself in a full-length mirror, Mycroft watching with interest from the bed.  Greg was wearing some jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, both a bit tight because of the size difference between Mycroft’s father in his youth and Greg.  

“Should I add a leather jacket?” Greg asked with a grin.

Mycroft’s eyes roamed over Greg in a way that made the jeans grow a bit tighter.  “I wouldn’t advise adding any articles of clothings,” he deadpanned.

Greg chuckled.  “We can discuss how many articles of clothing I should be wearing later, after your meeting.”

Mycroft nodded, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly in a small smile.  “Breakfast, then, Sweets?”

When they arrived in the kitchen, they found Katharine sitting at the table, looking through a file.  She looked up at them, not looking at all surprised to see Greg.

“Are we ready to begin our meeting?” she asked.

Greg hesitated.   _ Is she asking both of us? _  “Uh, you have a key to the house?” he asked stupidly, saying the only thing he could think.

Katharine smiled warmly.  “Yes, Greg.  Mycroft’s mother has been my dearest friend for years.  I was initially given a key in case of an emergency, but it has lately been used when Mycroft decides to have a bit of a lie-in on days we have early meetings.”

Greg was annoyed at the way she said “a bit of a lie-in”, as if Mycroft hadn’t just returned from a dangerous trip seven hours ago.  But then Mycroft and Katharine laughed and Greg’s annoyance faded away.   _ Oh, a joke.  Definitely not a normal boss/employee relationship. _

“I was hoping, since you are here, that I might speak to both of you,” Katharine continued.

“Both of us?” Mycroft asked slowly, sounding suspicious.

Katharine nodded.  “We can debrief at a later date, today I’d like to discuss a personal matter.  Please, sit.”

Greg and Mycroft sat next to each other, across the table from Katharine, Greg feeling a sense of dread.

“What is this about?” he demanded, sounding a touch more annoyed than he intended.

“On Mycroft’s most recent assignment, one of his fellow agents was killed,” she said without preamble.

Greg glanced at Mycroft, who looked like he wanted to interrupt, but remained quiet.

Katharine continued, her eyes fixed on Greg.  “Not only that, his family was also attacked.”  There was a sharp intake of breath from Mycroft.   _ He didn’t know. _  “His wife and child were murdered.  We have those responsible in custody, largely thanks to Mycroft, but it doesn’t change the amount of risk to those my agents love.  There are always people who will try to hurt me and my people by harming others.  Mycroft’s line of work is filled with even more risk, as he is being groomed to take my place when I retire.”  Her face was serious, with a hint of worry barely concealed under the surface.

“Why are you telling me this?” Greg croaked out.

“I told you that I have seen positive changes in Mycroft since you began your relationship and you know that I care for him as more than just an employee.  I felt that you should be prepared in case there is a threat to you.  My other agent’s family wasn’t prepared and it ended in tragedy.”

“I can take care of myself,” Greg said gruffly, realizing that he was unprepared for the sort of threats that Mycroft faced daily.  He turned to look at Mycroft, who looked stricken with worry.

“I have no doubts of that.  But I felt a warning was necessary.  I wouldn’t want you to risk your life unknowingly.”

“Being within Mycroft is worth any risk,” Greg said, and it wasn’t bravado: he really meant it.

 

***

 

When Katharine left, Greg turned to Mycroft.  “Are you okay?” he asked, worried.  Mycroft still had the troubled look on his face and had barely spoken for the last hour.

Mycroft didn’t speak, he just stood, pulling Greg roughly up and into a kiss that showed all the worry that was written on Mycroft’s face.

“I’ll be okay,” Greg murmured against Mycroft’s lips.

Mycroft still didn’t say anything.  Instead, he took Greg’s hand and led him to the bedroom, where he methodically undressed Greg and then himself.  He stood there for several long minutes, studying Greg’s body carefully, as if committing it to memory.  Greg felt slightly uncomfortable under Mycroft’s gaze, but he stood still, allowing the inspection.  He had his own object of observation, Mycroft’s long, lean body.  He had never seen Mycroft like this, fully naked in a well-lit room.  There were small scars on his torso that he had felt in bed, but had never asked about.  Now he was sure that they were old injuries from past missions and fear washed over him: he wasn’t sure he would survive if he lost Mycroft.

When Mycroft was finished whatever it was that he was doing, he pushed Greg onto the bed, climbing on top of him and running his hands all over Greg’s body, the expression on his face showing that he was cataloging all of his observations.

Greg reached out and touched Mycroft’s cheek, making Mycroft meet his eyes.  “Everything will be okay,” he said quietly.  Mycroft didn’t respond, he just looked away from Greg’s face and continued what he was doing.

 

***

 

Mycroft’s odd study of Greg’s body turned into slow, tender sex that left Greg feeling utterly satisfied.  They spent the entire day in bed, alternately sleeping and having sex, with very little talking involved.  It was a lovely day and when they went out for dinner that evening, Greg felt whole and rested in a way he had never experienced in his life.

After dinner, Mycroft suggested going to Greg’s flat.  Greg agreed, but wished they would go to Mycroft’s instead: it was much nicer than Greg’s place and there was no roommate they might disturb.

At the door to Greg’s flat, Mycroft stopped and took both of Greg’s hands in his own, meeting Greg’s eyes for almost the first time since that morning.  “I love you, Gregory, I really do,” he said, his voice soft and sad.

“I love you, too, Mycroft,” Greg replied uneasily; for some reason, it sounded like a goodbye.

“I think it would be best if we ended this.”

Greg froze, his mind racing.   _ Is he saying what I think he’s saying? _  “End this?” he echoed.

“Our relationship.  I’m ending it.”  Mycroft’s voice was firm, but Greg could tell it was an act: Mycroft was barely holding it together.

“No.  I don’t accept that,” Greg said, tightening his grip on Mycroft’s hands.  “It’s not over.”

“It is, Gregory.  We’re done.”  Mycroft looked away and tried to pull his hands away from Greg, but Greg wouldn’t let go.

“Why?” Greg asked, though he knew the answer.

“It’s what’s best,” Mycroft said.  He wrenched his hands free and took a step back, looking down at his feet.  “Please do not try to contact me.  I will be out of the country on an assignment for some time.”

He abruptly turned and walked away, leaving Greg standing in front of his flat, feeling like his world had just been destroyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, angsty chapter. Enjoy!

Greg was completely shattered.  After he made it into his bedroom he fell into his bed, pulled the blanket over his head, and stayed there.

At some point, Karen came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.  “It’s been over a day, Greg,” she said gently.

“And?”

“You have to go to work tomorrow morning.”

“So?”

“If you don’t show up, you’ll get sacked.”

“So?”

“Mycroft broke it off?”

Greg let out a rather embarrassing whine and curled up into a ball, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.  What can I bring you?”

“A noose or a gun would be helpful.”

Karen patted him, sighed, and left the room.

 

***

 

Over the next few days, Karen brought him food and made him get up, use the loo, take a shower, and put on clean clothes.  She told him that she had spoken to his superior at work, telling him that a family member was ill, and he was allowing Greg to use his holiday time.

Greg had made it out to the couch, staring numbly at the television and processing nothing that was on the screen.

There was a knock on the door and Karen answered it.  “Who are you?” she asked rudely.

“I suppose that attitude is warranted, given the circumstances,” Katharine’s voice drifted into the living room.  “I’m a friend of Mycroft’s, which I am sure is obvious to you.  I would like to speak to Greg, please.”

Greg sat up, frowning.   _ What is she doing here? _

“I think you should leave,” Karen said, crossing her arms.

“Let her in,” Greg said, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Karen scowled at him but stepped to the side and Katharine walked in, her eyes fixed on Greg.  She sat down on a chair near him, watching him carefully.  “Well, you look better than Mycroft does,” she said quietly.

“What do you expect me to do with that information?” Greg asked, suddenly angry with her.

“Take some comfort from it, perhaps.”

“Why the fuck would that comfort me?  I love Mycroft, I don’t want him to be hurt.”

Katharine sighed.  “I feel the same.  He is very stubborn when he makes up his mind.”

“He’s also a bloody idiot,” Karen said from the corner of the room, where she was staring daggers at Katharine.

Katharine smiled.  “At times, yes.  He’s trying to protect you, Greg.  His actions are misguided, but his motivations are good.”  She turned to look at Karen.  “I don’t suppose you’ve been fully informed?”

“Apparently not,” Karen said, walking over and sitting down on the couch.  “What do you mean when you say he’s trying to protect Greg?”

Katharine sighed and launched into a long explanation.  Greg didn’t want to hear it, so he tuned her out, looking at the television again.  After a few minutes she started addressing Greg again, but he ignored her, feigning interest in the programme that was on.

Karen said something to her and they both walked to the door, Katharine trying to say something else to Greg that he ignored before she left.

 

***

 

A sense of normalcy returned to Greg’s life.  He returned to work, dodging questions about why he had been gone, and even managed a few social occasions.  Most of his time outside of work was spent in his bed, sleeping or crying.  He couldn’t shake the feeling of profound loss he had and he wanted nothing more than to see Mycroft one more time, to hold him and kiss him.

Months went by like this, Greg going to work for long hours and then returning home and crying himself to sleep.  

One night, he had just drifted into his restless sleep, when someone started pounding on the door to the flat.  It woke him, but he ignored it.  After a moment, Karen opened the door to his room, her voice sounding scared.

“Greg, you need to get up now.”

“Go away.”

“It’s important.”

“Sod off.”

Someone else came into the room.  “Greg, it’s Mycroft,” Katharine said, her voice thick, like she had been crying.

Greg sat up, looking at her.  Her gray hair was loose, cascading down her shoulders.  Her eyes were wild with worry and red and a handkerchief was clutched in her hand.  “He’s been injured.”

“Where is he?” Greg scrambled up and started dressing himself, not caring that his ex-boyfriend’s boss was seeing him in his pants.

“On my plane.  We’re meeting him at his house, where I have a medical team waiting.”

“Not a hospital?” Greg asked, pausing.   _ How injured could he be? _

Katharine was too distraught to pretend she couldn’t read every thought that went through his head.  “It’s bad, Greg.  My medical team is better than any hospital and they will want for nothing while they’re taking care of him.  Hospitals aren’t secure.”

Greg could see the fear and hurt in her eyes, an uncertainty that was startlingly out-of-character.  “I’m ready,” he said as he slipped his shoes on, following her out of the room and into her car.  “Does he know I’ll be there?” he asked quietly.

Katharine took a shaky breath.  “He’s not conscious.  He would want you there.”

“I hope you’re right,” Greg muttered, mostly to himself, watching London speed by through the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Considering that this takes place before I was born, I'm bound to get a few things wrong in it. I'm going to do my best, though. I did call my dad to find out how they made plans with people back in the day (he thought it was hilarious until I asked him what he would have done if he needed to know something about life in the fifties), and found out that answering machines were a thing in the eighties, which I didn't know before. So that's cool.
> 
> I'm not going to delve too deeply into the culture of the time period, I'm just focusing on the relationship and mentioning eighties-related things as needed for the story. There isn't going to be any crazy homophobia in it, just minor references to it. I also won't be getting into HIV/AIDS or anything like that. It's a bit of a touchy subject for me, I have a family member who is HIV+ and it has caused a lot of pain for my family. It's hard to write a story like this without any mention of it, however, so there might be a few passing references to it and that's it.


End file.
